The Cost of Trust: A Debt Never Repaid

I never thought a few thousand rupees could teach me such an expensive lesson — not financially, but emotionally.

He was someone I trusted. Not a stranger. Not a scammer. A "friend."

One evening, with a worried voice and convincing eyes, he said, “Yaar, thoda paisa chahiye, I'll return it in a week.”

I didn’t hesitate. I didn’t ask questions. I transferred the money in seconds. After all, friendship is about being there, right?

A week passed.

Then two.

Then a month.

Messages went from “Hey, just checking in” to “Bhai, sab theek hai?” — and eventually turned into silence.

What shocked me wasn’t the money. It was the ease with which he vanished — as if I never existed.

No guilt. No apology. Not even a fake excuse.

I began to realize:

People don’t borrow money, they borrow trust. And when they don't return it, they steal a part of you.

The worst part? You can’t even file an FIR for emotional fraud.

There were days when I laughed at myself.

Not because it was funny. But because what else can you do when your own “friend” ghosts you over a few notes?

I watched him living life — new clothes, parties, vacations — and yet, my unread messages gathered digital dust in his inbox.

He had no shortage of money — only a shortage of shame.

And me?

I kept quiet. I didn’t fight. I didn’t create drama.

Because when someone chooses to forget what they owe you — remind yourself: they’ve lost something more valuable than money — your respect.

Moral?

Never lend money you can’t afford to lose.

And never expect loyalty from someone who values cash more than character.

These days, I still help people. But not without receipts — not in heart, not in hand.

And as for him?

Let’s just say, karma has a better recovery rate than me.